Suspended
In the beginning the revolution was all motion and energy. When the President for Life resigned motion and energy disappeared with the sounds of clapping hands. Now everybody is in-between. Routines from the past are suspended. Everyone is waiting. No-one knows for what. In cafes and bars conversations hover. The waiting corrodes the belief that moment A will be followed by a moment B that is recognizably continuous with it. By degrees cafes and bars fall silent. Patrons diagram the geometries of their smallest activities. They can become maps if it comes to that if it comes to that.
In the underground a committee has constituted itself. It met for earnest negotiations to generate the sense that something is being decided. With a camera crew in tow, the committee convened in a basement. Many bottles of wine later, an argument broke out. This provided the camera crew with the facial expressions of intense engagement they were hoping for. Now the image has passed over into the mediascape. But it has had no effect. For years people had their attentions directed. They have not yet relearned how to see.
In the interstices a man wearing a bowler hat is connected by a thin black wire to a kite that floats in the curved space between cobalt planes of sea and sky. Inside the skin of the kite a microscopic environment is flattened and stretched and magnified. Beneath it, the concentrated heat from the flashlight sun has burned the narrow yellow beach to glass. On its surface enormous single-celled shadow organisms split and twitch and eat themselves.
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Author's Note
One of my friends in Cairo wrote about her despairing sense that the revolution was dissipating, being pulled back into the tyranny of the normal with all that entails. This is perhaps a response.
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Nice take on this historical moment. The last paragraph is quite fascinating.
I like the directness of the writing here, Stephen: "In the underground a committee has constituted itself. It met for earnest negotiations to generate the sense that something is being decided."
Effective. Nice piece.
In the 60's, I remember people uttering the phrase, "Come the revolution ..." But I can't remember what they said would follow, or if they ever did.
Love your take on this, Stephen.
Mediascape is a great word.
(There is so much I love about this and I cannot express it properly right now. Will try later.)
Stephen, your work never ceases to amaze me. Your word choices and vocabulary astound me, the sentences are dazzling, create an inner world that is magically disturbing. ****
Well done, Stephen.
Paragraph 3 is first rate.
wow. thanks so much for the reads and lovely comments.
@christian: nice. there was more to the despair about the dissipation of revolution. the egyptian movement has at the moment been largely contained by the military, which is how the americans gambled things would go. the problem is how to go beyond that.
@ sam: thanks very much. i'm pleased that the shorter sentences worked for you here. i always appreciate your comments.
@ jld: interesting. i remember a hip hop track from late 90s oakland--"when the revolution comes, all you'll probably do is squeal."---which i like still.
@ frankie: i'd be interested in hearing what works for you. i like the word mediascape too. i'm thinking of stealing it.
@ robert: you make me blush, sir. thanks so much.
@ bill: again, thanks for reading and the comment. very pleased you like the piece and the last paragraph in particular. it started from there and goes back to it.
That last line's a killer. Nice work, Stephen.
"Many bottles of wine later, an argument broke out. This provided the camera crew with the facial expressions of intense engagement they were hoping for. Now the image has passed over into the mediascape. But it has had no effect."
Much said in this powerful small piece. Nicely done. *